I Can Be Brave for You
by sassywriterchick
Summary: (Post TASM2) Gwen has been locked in a Oscorp lab for five years, while the rest of the world (including her boyfriend) thinks she died in that clock tower. In a moment of desperation, she accidentally reveals her one weakness to her captors. Which of course had to be Peter Parker. And of course, they try to use him against her.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is just the prologue which explains it's shortness. I try to keep my chapters at a minimum of 2000 words, which seems to be a nice average, although usually it's closer to 3000.**

**After TASM2 I became quickly obsessed with Spider-Man and obsession=fanfiction.**

**Please review:)**

**Sage**

* * *

_Prologue._

She wakes up. It's not the first time she's woken up in the days she's been there. No, it's been many days waking up in this lonely cell with the stone walls. Many days since the first door when she clawed at the walls until her fingers bled, screaming his name. She's tried to scratch the days she's been here in with her fingernails, but they always come while she's sleeping and cover them up. They don't want her to know how much time has passed.

Today though, they made a mistake. A fatal mistake which they were going to regret in the end. She sits calmly, her legs crossed, her eyes closed. Almost like she was mediating. But she wasn't, she was planning. Planning for the moment when they'd open the cage door to give her the daily food. Then they would take her away, and they would change her.

She hasn't seen herself in the mirror for years, at least she thinks it's been years. She only began to think that she might need to count the days around a year ago, when it suddenly became apparent he wasn't coming for her. Her blonde hair is sheared off at the chin, making it easier for them to train her.

They trained her to well though, thinking they could use her as a weapon. She's tricked them though. She isn't going to stay here any longer. She can hear their footsteps now, outside her door. She takes a deep breath.

The door creaks open. They've started to trust her, the man steps in the room. He has glasses and a bad perm. He holds a tantalizing tray of food in his grip. The aroma rising up off the steak and potatoes almost makes her feel sorry for what she's about to do. They are starting to show some kindness towards her after all.

She's up on her feet between one second and the next, kicking out at his hands. The tray clatters to the floor as she springs up on to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She suffocates him long enough to pass out, but not to kill him. He slumps to the ground, and she shuts her cell door carefully, before stripping the man of his lab coat.

She pulls it over her own prison jumper, and with a pen she takes from the pocket she draws eyeliner around her eyes, smoothing her hair. She has to look like she belongs. Most of them haven't seen the rebellious woman; she is the only one they haven't succeeded in converting. She locks the cell door behind her.

Her head is focused on the ground, hoping she won't be recognized. There are identical cells lining the hall, but she doesn't unlock them. No, she'll need help. And she knows just who to go to. His name, despite her desire for him, strikes a pang of anger in her gut she quickly stifles. He didn't come for her. All she needs is his help, nothing more. She doesn't need his love, or his fake promises.

She follows a group of girl scientists who are chatting excitedly about picking out dresses for some event or another. She ignores them. They're her leaders to an exit, nothing more.

The place where she's been held is a maze of hallways and rooms, and it takes them longer than she would have liked. It won't take long before they notice her absence in the training room.

The doors are right ahead of her now. She can see them, can see the sunlight streaming through them like beautiful hope. The alarms go off. They're a blaring shriek, and she can see grey walls begin to desend over the doors. She full on sprints, but they're closed before she can there.

"No!" she screams, her voice hoarse and scratchy. This was her ticket, her way out. And now it's gone. "Let me out! I don't belong in here! Please!" she begins to sob, and his name forces it's way out of her throat as the guards begin to descend upon her. "PETER!" she shrieks, "PETER PLEASE SAVE ME!"

"Hostage control." One of the guards speaks into his walkie-talkie. "We have Gwen Stacy restrained."

* * *

Peter Parker turns around rapidly, his eyebrows furrowing. He was walking down by one of Oscorps buildings on the edge of the city when he swears he hears someone calling his name. The building has gone down into lockdown, although he can't imagine why. He bites his lip for a moment, wondering if someone did scream for help.

But why would they scream his name? He shakes off the odd feeling and keeps on walking, turning up his music to block out anymore further distractions. Because it sounded like Gwen was screaming, and that meant his brain was playing tricks on him.

He kept walking.


	2. You Found Me

** Chapter 1**

They drag her back the way she came, but they pass her cell. She looks back to it frantically, where are they taking her that could be worse than in there? The guards are not gentle with her, they slip a blindfold over her eyes when they catch her glimpsing around them. They tie her to a chair, rip off the black cloth, and leave her alone.

In a world without mirrors, all she could see was herself now. They'd put her in a new cell, where all the walls reflected her perfectly. Where she couldn't even remember what she looked like before, now she couldn't see anything else. Some sort of punishment she supposes, and it does hurt more than anything they could inject into her.

Her blonde hair falls unattractively in uneven waves to her chin, cut by the dull blade of a knife. Her face is thinner than before, all angles and sickly pale. Her body is not the soft curves it was before, it's hard with new muscles and age. Her eyes don't look like they have hope in them in anymore, the haunted look of someone who's given up. They're empty green orbs, and as much as she tries to put light, happiness in them, she can't. The pen is still marked around her eyes in fierce black lines, and she looks like some wild thing from a movie. Almost like an assassin.

She hates it. She closes her eyes against the reflection, cursing her moment of weakness. She called out Peter's name. Something she swore a year ago she would never do, because she couldn't think about him. In the start she'd screamed for Spider-Man, as to keep his identity a secret.

He hadn't followed her here, he hadn't saved her. He promised. She thinks about that night often, wondering exactly what turning points got her here. In this room with mirrors. Her arms are starting to grow sore; they are tied brutally behind her.

The door (which is also made of mirrors) swings open, and he comes in. The man who is the source of all her pain. At first glance, he's just some normal guy. Shock of black hair peppered with grey, brown eyes. He's wearing his lab coat today, as he shuts the door carefully behind him. His muscles strain as he stands before her.

"Miss Stacy." He says in that carefully controlled voice, deep and mellow. Never getting angry, never hinting at the psychotic mad man within. She closes her eyes firmly again when she's done analyzing his appearance. She will not let him see into the hopelessness that's invaded her soul. "That's the third time this month alone." There is a squeaking sound, and Gwen guesses he's brought a chair in with him. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

She opens her eyes. She's certain their filled with a different emotion now, hatred. He sounds like a scolding parent, his brown eyes filled with faux concern. He almost looks like he cares about her well being, but she knows differently. She contemplates for several moments what snippy comment she's learned from Peter she hasn't sent his way, before opening her mouth.

"Go to hell." She says it calmly, and he laughs. She narrows her eyes. The laugh is a great booming one, something you could expect from a fatherly figure. Not a monster. She doesn't know why he finds so much amusement in her comment, because it wasn't meant to be taken lightly. It was supposed to make him scared, like Peter's comments made car thief's and muggers afraid.

"Oh, you do know how to make an old man laugh." He booms, slapping his knee. Gwen glares.

"Get to the point." She says coolly, raising one eyebrow.

"We can't go on like this, you and me." He shakes his head like he's actually mourning his the absence of a relationship with her. He's acting like he hasn't tortured her, made her hard. Made her cold. "Something needs to be done." He taps his chin.

"I will not give in." She says firmly. She attempts to shift her shoulders, these ropes are really uncomfortable.

"Oh no, I didn't think so." The man shakes his head, his mouth quirking up. "But what was that name you shouted back there?" he leans in. "Peter?" he gently spits, as if is testing how the name tastes.

Gwen stiffens. She's grown some sort of anger towards Peter for not coming for her, but she also assumes that something is in his way. He wouldn't abandon her. And she cares about him, more than she's ever cared about anyone else in her entire life. The fact this man could possibly hurt him, made her scared. If they got their hands on him, and that was a big _if,_ they would bring him back here and find out they caught Spider-Man. They would hurt him more than they hurt her. The man can already see it her eyes though, the fear.

"So that is how we get to the impenetrable Gwen Stacy." The man sounds pleased, and lets out a real laugh. It's sounds like a duck being strangled.

"You stay away from him." She snarls, and knows it's over. He knows that Peter is her weakness. For whatever reason he knows that she'll do anything for that stupid, awkward boy with the camera. She can't let them take him. They'll break him. She'll break.

"What's his last name? Eh?" he leans forward slightly, and she can smell his breath. Hot and disgusting, exactly like him. She doesn't speak, she doesn't even blink. She bites her tongue. "Not going to tell us?" he leers. "Very well. We'll just have to do a background check on you. See if there's someone named Peter close to you." He unties her ropes, and leaves quickly before she can regain the feeling in her limbs long enough to hit him. The realization that she's just gave him the one thing he wanted, makes her sink to the floor. She places her face in-between her knees, a forced sob leaving her mouth.

She hasn't sat this way since she was a small child, sent to her room because of some childish wrong she did. This was more than some stupid foolish mistake, this was Peter's life.

Now she's lost. Lost all the months she's spent preparing for her escape, lost all the months she's been resilient, with one brief desperate scream. She prays to whatever lies beyond that he wouldn't get caught.

* * *

Peter Parker's apartment doesn't look like it's been lived in. He has all the necessities, a fridge, a dishwasher, a bed, even a worn red couch. But the walls are a blank white, and it seems like a ghost lives there. No mark of him lies upon the surfaces, and he likes it better that way.

He doesn't go to the apartment he owns often, occasionally collapsing on the bed after a late night of Spider escapades his head hitting the pillow without a second thought. When he does think, his eyes staring at the celling- well that never happens. He's swinging across the city before the silence can get to him.

He's sitting at the barstool in the morning, cramming a bagel into his mouth with ACDC blasting in his ears, when he catches sight of it. He hardly remembers coming home the night before, pulling the picture out of the draw and sticking it on the wall with some webbing. It hangs crookedly now.

Her green eyes stare at him through the glass picture frame, and it looks bare on the wall. Her pink lips are pulled into a tantalizing laugh, her cheek nuzzled against his. He doesn't know why he put the picture up again; he probably wanted a sense of normalcy after abnormal. But, he reminds himself as he tears the picture down from the wall and slams it back in the drawer, Gwen isn't his normal anymore.

Before he knows what he's doing he's left his apartment (through the front door, imagine that) and is already on his board. Aunt May tried to get him to get rid of his board many times, thinking it was responsible for all of his various injuries. He couldn't help but feel it was one of his last attachments to Gwen, as he rode it when she was still around. She used to tease him about it.

So he kept riding it, even though he was nearing twenty-four years old and probably could afford a car if he really wanted one. He didn't. As he rode through the various traffic, alleyways and pedestrians, he tried not to think too much about where he was going. He may have originally intended to visit Aunt May, but his feet are steering him towards a different path.

He knows he's trying to find his heart. He realizes the cheesiness of the words, of implying that his heart is buried with Gwen. He can't find any other way of describing it, the feeling that his heart is somewhere separated from his body. That it rests with her. He nearly falls when his board hits the graveyard grass and the wheels get stuck. He lands on his feet, catching himself neatly. He picks up his board and ignores the old lady giving him the devil eyes.

He never sits by her grave. He stands in the exact same spot, the grass is worn where his feet have been standing repeatedly.

_"You've been following me? How often?" _

_ "Once a day, sometimes more." _

He clears his throat nervously, and the old woman probably realizes he isn't some random hooligan starts to look guilty.

"Hey Gwen." He says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "Been missing you lately. But nothing new I suppose." He laughs. "I say the same thing every day huh? Well… I figure you get visitors from your Mom and Brothers, but I'm a rain or snow kind of guy. Everyday for the rest of my life that's what I promised you. And I intend to fill that promise." He weakly salutes the grave. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you never died. If you were still here… beside me. I need your strength, I wish I could see the way you brush your fingers against your nose-" he breaks off, his voice a choked sob. He always ends up crying when he visits her.

"Oh son." The old woman sighs, and she's walked up behind him. Her gray curls bob slightly as she drops a rose on top of where Gwen rests. "You'll be with her soon." She pats him on the back, and he feels the sting of a dart as it enters his body. His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth. The darkness is rushing up to meet him alarmingly fast, and he crashes to the ground, his face pressed against the green grass.

* * *

Gwen is sleeping when they throw him in. She is startled awake by the groaning and the thump. She immediately springs into action, throwing herself backwards, hitting the mirrors on the opposite side. The lights are still off, so she can't see whom they've thrown into her cell. It's a man, judging by the groan that emits from him, and that makes her more scared. She doesn't like men that much, and the only man she ever would let even touch her face would be Peter. And he wouldn't let them catch him, she had faith in him.

"Where am I?" It's his voice that catches her off guard. It's unmistakably Peter's, warm and tinged with an accent. She doesn't want to believe it's him, and convinces herself somehow that it's not, because she doesn't want him to be here, even though she's hoped for it for years. "Hello?"

"Who are you?" she demands, despite the nagging her brain saying _It'sPeterIt'sPeterIt'sPeter. _She can't believe it's Peter.

* * *

His head hits the white floor with a thump, and he groans. His thoughts are spinning slightly due to the impact and he can't help but feel slightly alarmed at his surroundings.

"Where am I?" he says rather stupidly, as it's a obvious question. His head is muddled from whatever drug that stupid old lady put into him, and he can't think properly. "Hello?"

"Who are you?" a voice demands, and it's a voice that has haunted Peter's memory for years, that hasn't left him alone. The kind of voice that's ruined all of his attempted relationships over the years. It's slightly hoarse, but still is the same husky beautiful voice he loves.

"Gwen?" he asks the darkness, and there's and intake of breath.

_ "Peter?"_

* * *

So if this is going really really fast for you, SORRRRRRRRY. I promise I will slow it down, I just really needed to get Peter in the cell with Gwen. So. There we are. Honestly, I don't have to much planned for this story, so if you have a request please let me know! This chapter is dedicated to all the people who followed and reviewed. :)

-Sage


	3. Evil Promises

**_Sorry this chapter isn't as long, or as good as the other ones. I needed to get the plot started. You know at the beginning of a movie, like the Avengers where something big happens at the beginning (Like Loki taking the cube) and it all happens really fast, and then it sort of slows down? That's what I'm doing here. :)_**

**_Thank you to MockingJayGwenStacy for totally figuring out things for me, and taking this in a direction I wanted._**

**_AND SO MANY FOLLOWS IM LIKE DYING THANK YOU!_**

**_-Sage_**

* * *

The lights flash on, as if it's morning. She knows it's not. She knows they're just gauging her reaction to the appearance of the boy before her. Still, the bulbs blind her temporarily, and she flinches, pressing her fists into her eye sockets.

Not that the word boy can quite apply to him now. He looks older, perhaps a bit broader in the shoulders, his muscles more defined. His hair is still the rumpled brown mess it was before. His brown eyes gaze back at her with confusion. She longs to find any detail that's changed in him, run her fingers through his hair. Taste his kiss.

"Gwen?" he repeats, sounding lost. She knows he has a million questions, and she needs to give him the answers to. She can't help but feel the anger from earlier rising up in her. She's been tortured, and the only reason he's here now is because they kidnapped him.

"Why didn't you come for me?" She demands.

"How are you alive?"

The questions are spoken at the same time, and her green eyes widen. She mouths the word 'alive', her brain moving to fast for her to make words. He looks puzzled as well at her question. What does he mean alive? It doesn't make any sense to her.

She decides something, and apparently Peter does too. Talk later. They both lunge forward at the same time, and she wraps her arms around his neck, and plants her lips on his. His hands move to caress her cheek, and her fingers wind themselves through his hair, the silky brown stands comforting. He tastes the same, feels the same. Her body still fits against his. He's still the beautiful person he was years ago. She can't be angry at him for long.

It's between that moment in the next that they're drugged, and both pass out on the floor.

* * *

When she wakes up, she's tied to Peter. Her back is pressed firmly against his, and she can feel the warmth. She's the one facing a blank wall, and she hisses. Peter is tense, she wonders what he's seeing. She cranes her neck, but she can't possibly see. Her head leans back against his, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes a tiny bit.

"Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy." The voice is cold, raspy, and Gwen recognizes it at once. She's had nightmares many times over about that voice, that voice has haunted her dreams and turned her stomach. "If I had known I had both of you in my care, I would have collected you both a while ago." The voice sneers, and paces around so Gwen can see him.

Harry Osborne is gaunt, his skin pale, his cheekbones protruding from his face. The smile he's giving them is one of the last things Gwen remembers from before the fall. It stretches across his face in a gruesome smirk, and it wouldn't take much to turn him into the villain of story books. He leans down and flicks her nose gently with his fingernail. It's due to her years in captivity that she doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink. "Such a pretty waste." He spits, and the droplets cling to her cheeks like flies in a spider web. Peter twists. She can't see him, and she almost wonders if that whole thing in her cell was a mirage. Perhaps he's someone else. Or he doesn't exist at all.

"You leave her alone." Peter snarls, and Harry laughs. The laugh reminds Gwen of screaming children.

"Oh why would I do that?" he snarls, "Don't you remember Peter, remember what I said? I said I would take away your hope. And after what she's endured here, I doubt she's the same Gwen Stacy any longer. Isn't that right Ms. Stacy?" he asks her.

"Leave me alone." She says shakily, but keeps her eyes open. She doesn't want him to know how very afraid she is right now.

"We gassed you in a very…intimate moment didn't we? I'm sure both of you believed you were dreaming." He comes back into her view again, kneeling down so his nose nearly brushes against hers. "HAVE YOU WOKEN UP YET?" he hollers, and this time she does flinch. The sound hurts her eardrums, but a brief joy rises in her chest. So Peter's real. That much is a relief, even though he's here. In the clutches of an enemy, and Gwen put him there. Guilt spasms through her chest as she realizes that simple fact.

"Let her go Harry." Peter pleads, "Take me. I know you want me instead." She wishes she could punch him. She just got him back, she isn't about to lose him again.

"But that's not the way to make you pay," Harry sings going back to face Peter again. "The only way you could even contemplate how much pain you put me through was if this whole city burnt. And that's what I intend to happen."

"Then why haven't you?" Gwen demands.

"Lack of funds?" Harry chuckles, "And we needed an arsenal. A highly trained group of people, programmed to be weapons. You're the only one, Ms. Stacy; they haven't been able to convert. To much strength in you." She smiles a bitter smile.

"Pleasure to be of service," She bites up at him, and he slaps her. His nails rake down her cheek, and she can taste blood. She let's out a small cry of pain.

* * *

The moment Gwen cries out and flinches back against him, the sound of a slap reverberating through the air, Peter rips through his bonds. He doesn't know why he didn't have the strength to do so before, perhaps the motive that Gwen was real is burning through his mind.

Harry staggers back, and he almost looks afraid. It's just the three of them in the room after all. Gwen is slowly shaking herself free of the ropes. Peter shoots a web at Harry and ties him neatly against he wall. Harry laughs again.

"Oh Peter," he chuckles, "You do realize, there are others? You can escape, you can try to run, but you can't get very far. We will find you. I have a team you know, a whole team dedicated to taking you down and burning your precious city to the ground, your girlfriend with it." Peter covers his mouth with another shot of webbing. He's contemplating killing him, but a small hand grips his arm. He looks back into the frightened eyes of Gwen.

"We aren't killers." She reminds him. He slits a hole under Harry's nose so he can breath. She releases her grip on his arm, and he looks back at her. Concern is filling his gaze, but she shakes his head. "Save me from this." She pleads. He seizes her hand again and pulls her out the doorway.

There are two guards, heavily armed standing guard. Peter automatically fires at one, sticking him to the wall and removing his weapon. He turns to take care of the other one, and turns around just in time to see Gwen deposit a nice kick to the guards temple, effectively knocking him out. She shakes her head again at his puzzling look.

They're in a lone white hall, the only door is the one they exited from. It's painted a dark gory red.

"Well, there's only one way to go." Gwen shrugs and sets off down the hall. She's wearing a baggy blue jumpsuit, and he hasn't had enough time to take note on the ragged mess of her hair, the hopelessness in her eyes. He bites his lip and follows her, making himself stay focused. He can marvel at her aliveness and beauty later.

When they reach the end of the hall, Gwen sighs in recognition. "These are where the workers sleep." She explains, "Or as Harry calls him, the weapons."

"Is this where you were?" he asks her, and she shakes her head.

"I was kept in the holding cells. I was shown this, one of the rooms. It was supposed to be a perk if I cooperated." She explains flatly, "This way." She turns left, and marches down the hall. Peter scrambles to keep up with her, nearly tripping over his own feet. "There's a window over here." She explains, "I used to look out it when they took me to the lab."

"Can we break through it?" he asks, and she nods.

"It's quite a hefty drop, so they didn't think anyone would be escaping that way." She shoots him a grin, and even though it's a ghost of her previous grin it makes his heart speed up. Before he can kick in the glass, she does it. He can see her foot bleeding, but she shoos him off. "Later. Just get me out of here." He scoops her up, and her face presses against his neck, as he jumps out of the building.

* * *

"Can you just hold me?" she asks, interrupting his earlier thought processes. He looks down at her in surprise, his eyebrows lifting. She knows he has questions, but she can't answer them right now. She can't find the effort.

To her relief, he simply strides across the rooftop and envelopes her in a tight hug. She can feel herself breaking apart just looking at him, and burying her face in his shoulder makes pain fly through her chest.

It's been so long since she got to hold him, got to feel like she was safe. The knowledge of all of this breaks over her, and she can't contain the desperate sobs that rack through her body. Peter must love her very much, she thinks, to just hold her. He doesn't question her like he probably originally intended. He doesn't ask if she still wants to be with him, he doesn't ask what happened to her, he doesn't ask if she's cried for him every night. He doesn't ask.

She simply stands in his embrace, not wanting to let go, incase he vanished like some ghostly phantom. It's been so long since she's even had any contact with another person, so long before she's felt hope in her chest.

She decides in this moment, that despite her wishes that Peter not kill Harry, she decides that he needs to burn in a jail cell for the rest of his life.

* * *

One of Harry's guards finally frees him, and Harry breaks his arms. He was stupid enough to be knocked out by Gwen Stacy. Harry staggers over to the desktop computers, his fingers tapping frantically. He's sending out a message, to his team. That the plan needs to be put off for a little bit. IT wouldn't be a surprise to Peter Parker anymore. They needed to have more planning.

The six faces of the people who hated Spider-Man the most flash across the screen and Henry sighs. The exhalation escapes his lips in a sense of relief as he takes the syringe out of his pocket and injects the substance into his veins. At least he know now how to take them down. It's there love for each other, that is there biggest fault. Their love will take them down in the end.

_Not everyone has a happy ending._


	4. Promises

_**Okay, so this chapter sorta sucks in my opinion. sorry about that. **_

_**I've had a really hard time with writing recently, so I apologize if it's not up to speed. **_

_**Thank you to everyone who helped me!**_

* * *

"We should probably go." She says after a while, pulling back from him a little bit. He looks down at her, his eyelashes casting small shadows upon his cheekbones. She lifts her lips in a half-smile, trying to perceive a sense of normalcy among the abnormal. Despite her anger at him, she doesn't want him to worry about her.

"We can go to my apartment." He offers, shrugging his shoulders. He looked out of place, like he didn't feel like he belonged. Typical Peter. Still, he hadn't acted like that for quite a while around her, and it hurt. His eyes betray him, there is something about there steady brown color that hurts her inside.

"Wouldn't they be able to find us there?" she asks, sinking into herself a tiny bit. She said _us_. Like she was going to let him help her any more. That has been her original plan since she woke up in that terrible place the first time, she will admit.. Now she couldn't even fathom bringing him into that sort of danger. She almost wants to laugh at how the roles have turned, how now she wants to protect Peter, and is willing to push him away, instead of the other way around. Still, she now knows how hard it was for her. It doesn't matter, he doesn't know what she's been through.

"No. I figured some of my enemies might find me if I put it under the name Peter Parker, so it's under the name Roderick Wallenberg." He admits sheepishly.

"Roderick?" She asks incredulously, her voice rising up in amusement, cracking slightly as she hadn't made a sound of amusement in a while.

"Oh shut up." He laughs. "I miss you. I miss this." He suddenly says. When he leans down to kiss her, it's a beautiful soft thing. His lips brush against hers, but she deepens the kiss and pulls him closer by the lapels of his coat. His fingers run their course through her short hair, and she lets her hands play with his coat. She pulls back.

"I suppose I should tell you about what happened-" She begins, her voice shaky as she contemplates telling him all the horrors she's experienced in the past five years. He's taking this all surprisingly well, not screaming or crying or demanding for answers, just simply acting as though he had seen her all the 1965 days they'd been apart. He holds a finger to her lips, shaking his head.

"If you aren't ready, then I'm not ready." He declares. A bout of wind brushes against them, and Gwen realizes this is the first time she's been outside in five years. She steps away from Peter so she can stretch her arms out and feel the wind whip through her navy jumper. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting the bars of sunrise illuminate her eyelids to a rosy pink.

"I'm free." She whispers, the realization striking her in the face. She turns around to face him, "I'm free." She repeats weakly. He steps forward and pulls her back into his embrace. They can talk about the past five years _later._

* * *

Before she and Peter could talk much, she demands a shower. She needs one. Peter was polite enough not to comment on her smell, but now that she's out of that terrible place she can really tell how badly she reeks. She sees Peter give her a relieved look at her insistence and knew he wouldn't argue to much. Talking could wait, for she needed a real shower.

The hot water makes her muscles unlock and relax, and she closes her eyes. You honestly don't realize how much showers are worth more than money until you live without them for so long. She was disinfected sure, she was cleanish. But nothing like a shower.

When she climbs out, a fluffy white towel wrapped securely around her body, she sees a pile of clothes that Peter has laid out for her. She dresses herself quickly, it's a pair of one of his shirts and shorts. They're both big on her, but it feels almost like she's wearing Peter, and she loves it.

"Hi." She says nervously, her green eyes meeting his brown ones. He smiles nervously at him, and tosses her a folded menu.

"Bit early for Chinese food, but I suppose anything would taste good to you after all those years." He says awkwardly, "Pick out anything. I don't have much here, and I've got coupons to this place."

"Oh my god that sounds like heaven." She exaggerates, picking out something on the menu. Peter gives her another smile, and dials the number to get their food. She takes a seat on the red sofa, and closes her eyes. She can almost pretend she's in his room at Aunt May's, and they're ordering something out because the cook isn't home. She really does wish it could be those days.

"So… talk now or later?" Peter stammers out, sitting next to Gwen. She looks up at him, her green eyes wide.

"Sure now." She replies nervously. "I don't know-"

"I can talk first if you want." Peter says, nodding.

"You?" She questions, before stupidly realizing that of course he has a story to pair with hers. She automatically feels selfish, for thinking that his story might be weaker than hers, like he's had a sort of party while she was in , compared to hers it probably was a party. "I mean… never mind. You should go first."

"Okay. That's what I said." Peter says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. She nods again, and curses herself for how awkward she's acting. Sure, in the heat of the moment they had a pretty spectacular make-out session, but now that they were pretty safe, the questions hovered between them like an invisible curtain.

"Well, I suppose I should begin with how you died. Do you know how you died?" he asks her.

"No." She says, "I was falling and then I woke up in a cell."

"I didn't…" he stumbles over his words, "… I didn't catch you in time. You slammed against the ground; I still hear the crack in my sleep sometimes. I held you in my arms and you died. There was a funeral, words were spoken. Our entire class showed up." He's avoiding her eyes, "Everyone treated me like some wounded anima, and no one even could look me in the eyes. Aunt May held me as I cried, and no one was there to make fun of me." Her eyes widen.

"Peter, I don't-"

"I wasn't Spider-Man for a year. And every single day, no matter if it was raining or snowing, once I nearly died, I always visited your grave. Every day Gwen. Finally, I put back on the mask. I tried to date other people, tried to move on. There was always something though, no matter how rude and snobbish the woman was, that reminded me of you. I can see it in your eyes," he says softly, "You're angry with me. You think I abandoned you. That's why I'm acting so awkward around you, because I can feel the hurt radiating off of you."

"Peter, I'm so sorry." Her voice trembled. At first she had cried, wanting things to go back, but she had never given thought to how the past years had affected _him._ She could see tears in his eyes, and felt a rising storm of self-hatred bubbling inside her. She hadn't thought about him. Not at all.

"No, don't you dare be sorry." He demands, "Because that's all anyone has been for the past five years. I'm so damn sick of people being sorry. So let's just forget about the past five years. At least for tonight. Can we just be Peter and Gwen for tonight?"

She smiles. "Yes. But first, will you do one thing for me?" She asks, a smile illuminating her features.

"Anything."

"Punch me."

"What?"

"Do it!" she insists, and he looks rather surprised.

"You want me to hit you?"

"Just do it. You're right, I don't really want to talk about what happened. I can show you though." He throws a lame punch, perhaps thinking that there wasn't anyway she would give in. It's the punch you give someone who's your buddy, someone you would never really hurt. She ducks the punch and it flies by her ear, grazing her hair. She grabs his shoulder and flips him over her head, slamming him lightly against the ground. He looks up with large brown eyes, and she's relieved to see that they are not angry, but alight with excitement.

"Oh…. Now you've done it." He winks. "You're on." He throws a harder, more determined punch her way, but it's still not up to Peter's speed. She knows he's holding back, and is probably just doing this for her and his amusement. Something they could both enjoy.

Her next kick sends him crashing into the stereo, and she lunges forward, knocking him to the ground, she playfully holds a finger gun to his temple. "Got you." She whispers. He laughs.

"Okay, I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that." He laughs. She kisses him, properly this time. Some things had changed, she supposed, but some thing never would.


End file.
